If you think about it, it’s perfect. It’s a losing record, but just the bare minimum of losing without winning. We’re the best of the worst. The Biggest Loser. Professional NIT. We’re Mott The Hoople to the playoffs’ David Bowie. We’re the goddamn Timberwolves.

I went to the game last night and had fourth row seats. I’ll probably never get to see a game that close again and it allowed me to notice a few things that you wouldn’t in the cheap seats:

1) The crowd got loud as hell last night. True, we were asleep for the beginning of the game, but I swear it picked up the minute the announcer mentioned that Kevin Love was the first player in NBA history with 2,000 points, 900 rebounds and 100 3-pointers in a single season. Then it got crazy loud once we went on a good tear in the second half. Then, it got to rabid dog pissed off when Ricky Rubio was clearly shoved to the ground with no call. You can call us “Minnesota Nice” all you want, but they must have imported some brainwashed, coked up Boston/New Yorkers for this game, because shit got super un-nice.

2) The Utah Jazz have a dude who is 8’9″ tall and his name is Go-Gurt. He is officially listed as 7’1″, but there’s no way. Seeing him that close up was simply shocking. Utah has a long history (beginning with Mark Eaton and stretching to Enes Kanter) of developing long, gross Gumby men, but this guy takes the cake. This dude made Manute Bol look like Manute Bol with no legs. He made Mugsy Bogues look like Shawn Bradley. That doesn’t even make any sense, but that’s how disconcerting his height was. That dude could tickle Karl Malone’s knees from across the court. His arms are so long he could punch John Stockton back in 1983 when he played for Gonzaga. He’s got Go Go Go-Gurt arms and he looks like Herman Munster with Marfans. Hide your children.

3) Ricky Rubio has a wicked right arm.It was Fan Appreciation Night and immediately after the game, the Wolves players (not including Kevin Love – who I love, but is the King of Crying) took to the court to toss Timberwolves t-shirts into the audience. I caught three! The first was an arching Hail Mary from Pekovic. The second was from an unknown source who I like to think was Kevin Garnett. And the third was from Rubio. I wasn’t looking in his direction and when it struck me it literally hit me full-speed on the heart. It hurt so bad I got a headache. I now have empathy for poor Darko Milicic dropping Ricky’s passes and having them bounce off his rectum or anywhere else except his hands. Ricky could throw a pass to the moon that’s being guarded by the sun and four flying Bigfoots and still nail the Sea of Tranquility and no one would see it coming. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go nurse my collapsed sternum.

That’s it for the 2013-2014 season. We have a full off-season of crying and “Why? WHY? WHY?!”s to recoup and then begins Season 2014-2015, otherwise known as: “The Year Of Awkwardly and Pathetically Begging Kevin Love to Stay.” Maybe if we all lost some weight and started dressing sexier?

I’ll still check in from time to time for the playoffs and any trade/draft related drama. Until then, it’s time to unemotionally watch some OTHER teams fail for a change.

Wow. We just beat arguably the best team in the league on the road in double overtime. How are we not making the playoffs? Seriously, screw the East. We would be the third best team in that conference. The East should be allowed to put two teams in the playoffs: Miami, Indiana and maybe the Knicks purely for comedic train-wreck effect. Just put in Carmelo Anthony, JR Smith and some manatees in Knicks uniforms. Would anybody even notice the difference? “Man, Raymond Felton looks like he really lost some weight!”

“I’m just glad manatee Raymond Felton didn’t bring his guns.”

By the way, how bought and sold are the refs in Miami’s favor? The Heat got away with murder all game against us. They got ticky-tack fouls called their way all night and had about 400 no-calls when they uncle-molested us in various fashion over and over. At one point LeBron James plowed over Ricky Rubio so hard that I’m pretty sure a small panda in Spain died. (Did I tell you that Ricky has a split soul with a fuzzy panda in Barcelona? How else do you explain him?) After the game, Heat Coach Erik Spoelstra had the audacity to question the last second call that was FINALLY in the Wolves favor. Are you kidding me?! That’s like the rich kid frat boy who gets pissed because only 99% of the party gave him blowjobs.

Well, this one feels good. (That wasn’t a blowjob reference.) If we’re not making the playoffs, we can at least get moral victories and spoil some seeds. This was a hugely important game for Miami for Eastern Conference seeding purposes and we mucked it up for them. “The Heat didn’t have Dwyane Wade!” Oh, boo-hoo. We didn’t have Nikola Pekovic and Kevin Martin. Besides, do people really think that Dwyane Wade is a factor anymore? That dude may be 32, but he’s got the body of a paper-mache Abe Vigoda. If he bumped into Greg Oden the floor would get sprayed with tendons and ACLs and that weird grey packaging filler you find inside of UPS envelopes. Holographic 2pac is sturdier.

It feels like we just won a playoff game. It feels like a game where, no matter how we end up, or if Kevin Love leaves, or if we get the top two draft picks and take Ren & Stimpy, we can still look back and smile upon this moment. Maybe that’s a loser mentality, but in a decade full of David Kahn, Jonny Flynn, Troy Hudson rap albums and Michael Beasley spilling his bong water on everybody’s grandma, we’ll take it.

Next up, we play the Orlando Magic in Disneytown. They are fucking awful, so of course they’ll beat us.